The Enlightenment
by ThePhreak
Summary: Abandoned. In a war where no one is free from suspicion and everyone is just a bit prejudiced, enlightenment is important. A 20 year old mystery must be solved to learn about the past of a murderer and possibly save the Magical world. Follows HBP.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**Disclaimer:** In no way do I own or claim to own Harry Potter. That is the original work of JKR and I'm not stupid enough to attempt to steal it.

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**"To free oneself from ignorance and superstition...to enlighten."**

_Chapter 1: The Beginning_

"Tonks, what's going on?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked, walking over to Tonks. Her hair was orange tonight, standing on end as if she had just been electrocuted. She looked a pumpkin.

"Apparently someone tried to break into the place. She's a Muggle, but…" Tonks trailed off, and glanced over at the woman who was yelling and trying to kick the two Aurors holding her arms.

"Listen, you dolts!" she was screaming. "I don't mean any harm! I just needed to speak with Severus! I know that's his house!"

"How would she know Snape?" Kingsley asked distastefully.

Tonks shrugged. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

The two made their way over to the Aurors holding her. They looked slightly alarmed and seemed to be standing as far away from her as possible to avoid being hit while still holding her.

With a grim expression, Tonks pointed her wand at the woman and said, "Stupefy." The woman appeared surprised as she saw the wand, but could see no more as she slumped, unconscious.

"Take her in for questioning."

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Kingsley took a seat in the chair opposite the Muggle woman in their questioning room. Tonks remained by the door, her usual cheerful self nowhere in sight. He looked at the woman; her jaw clenched shut, her arms and legs bound to the chair with magic, the chair attached to the floor. She appeared afraid but doing her best to keep in control of herself.

She had been pretty once, he could tell. Her eyes were the most unique, and beautiful, blue he had ever seen, save for a painting of an ocean hanging in his sister's house. They were almond shaped, with thick lashes and nicely shapedeyebrows. But there were dark bags under the blue orbs, and they were bloodshot. They appeared haunted, as if she had suffered through a great tragedy. Her hair was dirty and messy, cut short and layered, though a pretty dark brown that suited her. Her cheekbones werequite defined and her cheeks had a hollow look. There was a light scar across the left side of her face, straight across from the side of her nose to about an inch under theouter cornerof her eye. Her nose was thin and slightly upturned at the end, and her lips were full and red, though chapped and she obviously had the habit of chewing them.

He couldn't see much of her body, as she was wearing baggy clothes that almost made her appear to be a pile of shirts and pants. He knew she was skinny, though, from the accounts of the two Aurors who had held her. There was a peculiar cut between the knuckles of the middle and ring fingers on her left hand. It looked rather nasty, probably infected, and there was still dried blood around it and in a line over her hand towards her wrist.

Yes, but if she was cleaned up, given a few hot meals, and some new clothes, she would definitely be pretty again.

"What's your name?" Kingsley asked.

"Lexi Medley."

"Where do you live?"

"None of your business."

"Do you know why you're here?" Kingsley used a toneless voice, trying to keep her from becoming riled up.

"I tried to break into a house," she all but snarled.

"Do you know who owns the house?"

She rolled her eyes, making it clear what she thought of him. "Of course."

"How?"

"Phone book."

"Do you know that Severus Snape is guilty of murder?"

The woman faltered here, staring at him with wide eyes. "Who did he kill?" Medley asked slowly, as if expecting a certain answer and not wanting it to be true.

"Albus Dumbledore," Kingsley said. She gasped and would have reeled back had her chair not been attached to the floor.

"Not Dumbledore!" she exclaimed. "No, Severus would never do that…no…Dumbledore was…he wouldn't…"

"How do you know Dumbledore?" Kingsley demanded.

"He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts last I heard…but Severus…"

"Who told you about Hogwarts?"

"I've known about it since I was eleven! Severus went there. I know he wasn't lying to me, I saw the letter."

Kingsley was slightly surprised by this. Obviously, Medley knew more than he originally thought.

"How long have you known Snape?" he asked.

"My whole life," she said, and then an expression he couldn't understand crossed her face for a brief moment, quickly replaced by indifference. "Not my whole life. No, until I was sixteen."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Twenty years ago. The night before he went to his last year at Hogwarts."

"And you were only going to see him now," Kingsley stated, rather than asked.

Her jaw clenched, as it had been when he entered the room, and she said no more.

Kingsley, realizing his mistake too late, left the room, Tonks following and walking beside him.

"So what do you think?" Tonks asked.

"I'm not sure. That woman is very strange."

"I thought so, too."

"Think we should do some research about her?"

"It can't hurt."

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**A/N:** Constructive criticism is very welcome. Please, if you see any way in which this can be improved, don't hesitate to inform me. However, I ask that you do it in a helpful manner, and that you don't just say, "This is terrible." Thank you! 

Also, I began writing this without realizing that Kingsley Shacklebolt is working in the Prime Minister's office. I had already written eight chapters when I remembered that. So I apologize for that and hope you enjoy it anyway.


	2. Chapter 2: A Meeting

**Disclaimer:** In no way do I own or claim to own Harry Potter. That is the original work of JKR and I'm not stupid enough to attempt to steal it.

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**"Necessity is the plea for every infringement of human freedom. It is the argument of tyrants; it is the creed of slaves." - William Pitt**

_Chapter 2: A Meeting_

A cloaked figure appeared in the shadows at the end of the row of buildings. A small _pop _accompanied it. The figure strode down the walk, taking large steps, until reaching the place between buildings eleven and thirteen. To anyone watching, it would seem as if the figure had disappeared into thin air, the same way as it had appeared.To the figure, however, the number twelve building was where it disappeared.

The figure quietly made its way through the entrance way and into the kitchen. Once there, it drew the hood down, revealing a stern looking woman, her mouth set in a thin line, her black hair pulled back into a tight bun. The others in the room greeted her with nods or softly spoken words, and she nodded back while taking a seat at the head of the table.

"Shacklebolt, Tonks, you both said you've made a discovery concerning Snape," Minerva McGonagall said, her tone just asstern as her look. "You may start off the Order meeting."

"Yes," Shacklebolt said grimly in response to her first statement. "Two days ago, a Muggle woman tried to break into Snape's house on Spinner's End. Aurors have been stationed there, just in case Snape was stupid enough to try to go back, so she was caught quickly enough." He took out a picture of the woman and set it on the table. Some of the people in the room craned their necks to see it. "Her name is Alexandra Medley and goes by Lexi. Age thirty-six, born October 31, 1960."

"Why was she trying to break in?" Remus Lupin asked in a soft voice.

"I'm getting to that," Shacklebolt said.

"She was a childhood friend of Snape's," Tonks continued the report. "She told us their fathers were friends, but made no further explanation. She has last seen Snape on August 31, 1977, almost exactly twenty years ago.

"We did some background research on her. Her mother, maiden name Elizabeth Leeds, was put in a mental hospital December 24th, 1975. Up until her commitment, Elizabeth had had no job and no income other than that from her husband, Liam Medley. Before she married, she had a job at a bank, which is no longer in business. Her parents had been very high in society but they disowned their daughter about a year before she married and apparently they never met their granddaughter."

"Liam Medley, however, has a more intriguing story," Shacklebolt said. "We have found no information on his parents, so it's possible he illegally changed his name or some such thing, and he worked as a lawyer. Not a very active one, mind you, but rather good and expensive. He was arrested no less than three times for crimes tied to drinking, but by all appearances cleaned up his act after he was married. He died March 18th, 1996."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Mundungus Fletcher asked irritably.

"We have a record of all the times he's had to pay a hospital bill after Lexi Medley was born," Tonks said, ignoring him. She placed a manila envelope on the table. "Most of it is for bruises, broken bones, cuts, and once for something unknown, but quite expensive. Almost every time the patient was Lexi."

"That's terrible," Molly Weasley gasped.

"So the kid was beaten by her father. What does that have to do with Snape?" Mad-Eye Moody demanded.

"Yes, what does this have to do with Snape?" McGonagall asked, after reading through the medical record and staring at the picture. The picture seemed to spark an interest in the witch, but she passed it along without making a comment.

"We're getting to that," Tonks said. "Medley was in the hospital himself on September 1st, 1977 from stab wounds. He had been found in his home in a pool of his own blood and immediately given medical care. He survived, but just barely. He was found by Tobias Snape, Severus Snape's father."

"The night before, when she had seen Snape, was the last time there's a record of anyone having seen her or known her whereabouts. Until now," Shacklebolt said.

"I still don't understand what this has to do with Snape," Lupin said.

"Of course not," Shacklebolt said, shaking his head. "But there's something strange about it. She told us she found Snape's address in a phone book, but he's not listed. Medley knows about Hogwarts and knew Dumbledore was headmaster." He ignored the flinching as he mentioned Dumbledore. "She knows about magic, about Aurors, about Occlumency and Legilimency, she's even read a few of our history books."

"Medley knows of Voldemort, and though she didn't know of his return, she had not been surprised when she heard of it. She was obviously afraid when we mentioned him, but refused to elaborate," Tonks said.

"So a Muggle knows a lot about our world, and she knows, or knew, Snape," Lupin muttered, staring at the picture. His brow furrowed and he scratched his chin.

"Do you think there's any way she can help us find Snape?" Moody growled.

"We're still questioning her, but there's a possibility," Shacklebolt said.

"I wonder if there's more to Snape than we thought…if maybe he had something to do with Liam Medley's attack…" Charlie Weasley said thoughtfully.

"Or if he had anything to do with Lexi disappearing," Tonks continued the thought. "Yes, we had wondered about that. As it turns out, Snape hasn't seen his father since the day he left for Hogwarts for his seventh year."

"But why would Medley suddenly be going to see him now?" McGonagall questioned, voicing the thought on everyone else's mind.

"We don't know," Shacklebolt said with a shake of his head. He ran a hand over his face and tugged absently at his earring.

"Interesting…" she muttered, then shook her head. "Try to find out more, if you can. Remus, how are the werewolves?"

"Not so good," Lupin said. "Many are ready to join Voldemort. A lot of them know they won't be any better off with their rights and such with him, though there are some with that delusion, but they want revenge for past wrongdoings. Fenrir Greyback hasn't been helping matters, showing up once in a while and stirring up even more trouble. However, I think I've made some progress. Annora Artaxer is definitely against Voldemort and has been trying to help me, and we have a few reluctant supporters. But even Annora has her trying times. She doesn't want to create too much of a rift between herself and the others, for fear of being an outcast in every society, so progress is slow."

"And what about Martin Boyko? What has he been up to lately?"

"Unfortunately, we can be quite sure he's not willing to help us a second time around."

There were a few moments of silence, and then McGonagall rubbed her eyes and looked to other members of the Order for news.

"There have been a few issues in the Department of Mysteries," Aulis Boyle said. He was a handsome man, very reserved, but willing to help their cause. His eyes were a peculiar brown, very light, his hair blonde and well kempt. He had high, defined cheekbones, a long nose, and thin lips. He stood near 6'1" and was lean, so much so that he could pass for exceedingly thin. He was an Unspeakable, and usually quite quiet and soft-spoken by nature.

"It's been hell ever since the whole fiasco a year ago, but since Dumbledore's death there's been talk of shutting the place down to avoid Dark wizards breaking in again." Aulis didn't look particularly phased by this, but those who were friendly with him knew well enough that he was anxious about the whole thing.

"You can't tell us any more? Who wants to shut it down, who wants to keep it open?" Moody asked.

Aulis shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Even telling you what I just did is probably grounds for me to be fired and my memory erased."

"Damn Unspeakable…" someone muttered, but was ignored.

"Molly, how has Harry been doing?" McGonagall asked.

"Oh, dear," Molly said, wringing her hands. "He's very…I'm not sure if angry is the right word. He's been irritable and frustrated the whole week he's been at the Burrow. The three of them have been holed up in Ron's room, doing who-knows what. It's almost as bad as Fred and George, the thumps and shouts I hear coming from there."

"Do you have any idea what they may be doing?" Dedalus Diggle said.

"What they're always doing. Trying to figure out how to get rid of You-Know-Who," Arthur said.

"Have they made any progress?" Moody growled.

"Why? So we can question them about what they know and act on it?" Maurus Doyle demanded in an annoyed tone. Maurus was an old man with graying brown hair, a wrinkled face, brown eyes that bulged slightly, and a rather large stomach. He was always irritable and many didn't like him, but he was extremely helpful with gathering information. He did, after all, work for the _Daily Prophet_.

"Why else would I care if they made any progress?" Moody snarled.

"They're what? Sixteen? Seventeen? And you want to rely on them for information? You're hypocrites, the lot of you. Telling those kids not to get involved then asking them what they know," Doyle scoffed.

"Anything necessaryto win the war."

The two men glared at each other, similar looks of loathing on their faces.

"Now is not the time to argue," Aulis said quietly.

"It's Snape's argument all over again," Bill murmured to Charlie, who nodded.

"I think this meeting is over," McGonagall said, lookingirritably at the two men. They turned away, Moody disappearing through the kitchen doorway, Doyle going to the fireplace and using the Floo.

"We'll meet again as scheduled. Until then, everyone," McGonagall said. Quietly, everyone got their things together and left in two's and three's, speaking softly to each other.

McGonagall drew her hood over her head again and exited the building, mind churning. She needed to figure things out, get new information, and soon.

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**A/N:** Constructive criticism is very welcome. Please, if you see any way in which this can be improved, don't hesitate to inform me. However, I ask that you do it in a helpful manner, and that you don't just say, "This is terrible." Thank you! 


	3. Chapter 3: Annoyances and Pointless

**Disclaimer:** In no way do I own or claim to own Harry Potter. That is the original work of JKR and I'm not stupid enough to attempt to steal it.

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**"Until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words: wait and hope." - Alexandre Dumas**

_Chapter 3: Annoyances and Pointless Searches_

Harry Potter sat moodily on the floor under his friend's, Ron Weasley's, window. Ron lounged across the foot of his bed while Hermione Granger sat with her back against the headboard, staring at the book in her hands.

"Why do you keep looking at that thing?" Harry asked with contempt. Hermione didn't even glance at him as she replied, "I think there's something we're missing in it, some kind of clue."

Harry snorted and looked away from her, while Ron groaned loudly. Harry couldn't understand why she was so interested in that book anymore. He had read it, Ron had read it, Hermione had read it, they had read it together, they had read it in pairs, they had read it aloud, they had read it more times than he could count! There wasn't anything in there that could possibly help them. Just a bunch of spells Snape made up, most of them borderline Dark or outright Dark. The only good it did was that now Harry knew many ways to torture the bastard when he finally found him.

Harry watched as Hermione opened the book to a random page and took out her wand. She tapped the book three times and muttered "Apparecium," with no evident change. She did this on a few more pages, sighed, and closed the book, staring at the cover again.

There was a long silence, during which Ron watched Harry, Harry watched Hermione, and Hermione watched the book.

"There's got to be _something _in here," Hermione ground out, opening the book again with an air of frustration. She settled into a more comfortable position and began to read all the cramped writing in the margins for what was quitepossibly the hundredth time.

"For God's sake, Hermione, there's nothing!" Harry yelled, getting up and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Ron looked at Hermione, the only sign she noticed Harry a crease in her brow, sighed deeply and got up, following Harry's path, but much more reservedly.

When the door was closed behind Ron, Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at the book, performing more spells on it. She just knew there was something she was missing, something nagging at her mind, something she should know but couldn't quite reach.

If there was ever a time she absolutely needed the Hogwarts library, she thought, it would be now.

Out in the yard, Harry walked around, glaring at the garden gnomes that appeared from their holes, sometimes making as if he was going to grab themand getting a perverse pleasure from seeing them scamper back into the ground. Ron watched from a distance, unsure of what to do for either of his friends.

Harry, finally out of gnomes, fell back into the grass and looked up at the sky. It was a cloudy day and he fancied, if only for a moment, that the weather was mirroring his mood and his inability to come up with anything to help him find a Horcrux. But that thought just grated on his nerves as it lead to thinking about the Horcruxes and Voldemort again, and how Dumbledore was dead, and how Snape had killed him, and how Harry had been powerless to stop it. He felt so frustrated with the whole world that, at that particular moment, he wouldn't mind if it just blew up and took everyone with it.

"I wish you guys would let me in on a bit more," Ginny Weasley's voice met Harry's ears. He jumped and looked over at her, standing a few feet away with her arms crossed and a serious expression.

Harry made a noncommittal noise in response and looked back at the clouds so he wouldn't have to look at her. He was getting that annoying feeling again that he got whenever she was around. It was something like guilt. Ginny took a step closer and sat on the ground, looking at him.

"Hermione is frustrated, so I'm supposing you haven't made progress," she said in a quieter tone. A bit put off by his lack of response, she continued more hesitantly. "Let me help, Harry. You know I can. And, if anything, I can at least keep the three of you from getting so mad you decide to curse each other."

"I don't want you to get hurt," Harry said, finally looking at her.

"You don't want Ron or Hermione to get hurt, either, but they're still allowed to at least have an inkling of what's going through that big head of yours." Ginny said this only half-angrily. She seemed, to Harry, more desperate than anything.

"They've been in danger since they first helped me with the Philosopher's Stone. There's no helping it now."

"I was at the Ministry. I hexed those Death Eaters enough to warrant a little danger. And, in case you're forgetting, I _was _the one You-Know-Who used to open the Chamber of Secrets again."

"I don't want you to get hurt," Harry repeated, the guilty feeling getting stronger.

"Fine," Ginny huffed. She got to her feet and brushed the grass off her clothes. "Fine." She stalked away from him and went into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Harry growled with annoyance and rolled onto his stomach, clutching his head, pressing his face into the grass and dirt to try to get the thoughts out of his head.

* * *

**A/N: **Constructive criticism is very welcome. Please, if you see any way in which this can be improved, don't hesitate to inform me. However, I ask that you do it in a helpful manner, and that you don't just say, "This is terrible." Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4: Revolting

**Disclaimer:** In no way do I own or claim to own Harry Potter. That is the original work of JKR and I'm not stupid enough to attempt to steal it.

If you're very squeamish, you probably won't like this chapter. Lexi has a bit of a self-destructive habit that is somewhat gross.

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**"Curious things, habits. People themselves never knew they had them." - Agatha Christie**

_Chapter 4: Revolting-(adj) arousing feelings of disgust or nausea_

Tonks entered the holding cell, forcing herself not to shiver at the standard white walls, white floor, white uniform of the prisoner, bright lights, and the feeling of being watched, which she most certainly was. It had always been like this, as long as she had been an Auror. The cells disturbed her more than the criminals did. It was a place one could easily go mad in. She almost went mad in those cells and she didn't even have to be in there long. Azkaban was even worse.

Lexi Medley was lounged on the bed, looking as comfortable as ever. The only thing giving away any sign of nervousness was the way she scratched her hand. Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt had soon figured out that the cut between Medley's knuckles was from her scratching at the skin there. Blood was caked under the pointer and middle fingernails of her right hand and blood drizzled over and off her left hand, marring the otherwise immaculate uniform she wore. Tonks figured it wouldn't be long until Medley was scratching bone rather than skin, but that wasn't her problem to worry about and there was nothing she could do about it short of keeping Medley constantly immobilized, which she couldn't do for fear of making her clam up again.

"Shacklebolt was already here," Medley stated, not looking away from the ceiling as Tonks stood there. Damn it, this woman was creepy. The scratching continued, taking off flesh with every movement, more blood surging out of her body.

"I know," Tonks said. "But I wanted to have a chat with you myself."

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. It made a small, somewhat wet, noise in the silence which should have been broken by a response from Medley. God, Tonks felt sick.

"Were you and Snape very close?" Tonks asked, the noise becoming unbearable for her.

Medley took a deep breath and blew it out then sat up on her bed and leaned against the wall. She stared at the wall opposite her and it seemed a shiver passed through her, but Tonks could've imagined it. "I don't know if close is the right word."

Tonks waited a minute for her to continue, but she didn't. "What is the right word, then?"

Medley gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. "I don't know. We were friends, I suppose, and we knew a lot about each other. I don't think it would've happened if we weren't forced to spend time together."

"Why were you forced to spend time together?" Tonks asked. Medley remained silent, her jaw clenched shut. Tonks tried a different line of questioning. "Did your father beat you?"

The scratching stopped for just a moment, but started up again as Medley answered. "Yes."

"Did Snape know?"

Medley let out a bitter, disturbing laugh. She looked at Tonks with a vaguely malicious sneer. "Of course he knew," she spat. "His father joined in sometimes. Dear Severus watched."

Tonks was startled by the hatred in her voice. She couldn't even be sure what or who it was directed at. But, even more startling, Snape had watched. Tonks' mind was churning with questions. Did Snape watch because he enjoyed it, or because he had to? Did he ever try to do anything? Was it often? Did she hate Snape because of that? Did they ever do anything more than beating?

"Did he ever try to do anything?" Tonks finally asked.

"Oh, of course. But he would just get beaten as well until they turned back to me and…" She trailed off, looking at Tonks with something akin to fear in her eyes. It made her seem more human, but in a strange way it also made her seem mad. Fear wasn't an expression Medley's face should've been capable of.

"And?" Tonks prompted gently, quietly.

"Nothing," she mumbled, turning her head away. The scratching, which had stopped for a few moments, resumed, seemingly worse than before.

"What happened the last time you saw Snape?" Tonks asked, forcing herself not to show her frustration.

"Why does it matter?" Medley snapped. She turned angry eyes on Tonks, whose hand was inching towards her wand in case Medley tried anything.

"I'm just trying to learn a few things," Tonks said in what she hoped was a calming voice.

Medley growled deep in her throat and turned her head away again. Tonks just stood there for a moment, then turned and left the holding cell again, closing the heavy door behind her and locking Medley in. She walked stiffly through the hall full of cells similar to Medley's, then exited that part of the Ministry and went to the nearest bathroom. Once there, she leaned against one of the walls, wiped the sweat off the back of her neck. There was something decidedly disturbing and revolting about someone who could do that to their own hand, and as the image rose in her mind, Tonks fell to her hands and knees, retching onto the floor.

After a few minutes, she moved so she could lean against the wall, drawing the back of a shaking hand across her mouth. She was starting to have second thoughts about keeping Medley there. She needed to be in a Muggle hospital where she could be strapped to a bed and kept heavily medicated. Tonks was going to remember that sight and that awful sound for a very, very long time.

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**A/N:** Constructive criticism is very welcome. Please, if you see any way in which this can be improved, don't hesitate to inform me. However, I ask that you do it in a helpful manner, and that you don't just say, "This is terrible." Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5: New Info and Ideas

**Disclaimer:** In no way do I own or claim to own Harry Potter. That is the original work of JKR and I'm not stupid enough to attempt to steal it.

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**"The vitality of thought is in adventure. Ideas won't keep. Something must be done about them." -Alfred North Whitehead**

_Chapter 5: New Information and Ideas_

Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow, a stony silence encompassing the whole room. Harry and Hermione had had another row barely an hour earlier, and both were still seething and licking their wounds. The others eyed both warily, and Mrs. Weasley was having a hard time keeping herself from yelling at them.

The arrival of two owls, each carrying the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_, caused a slight distraction as Hermione and Mrs. Weasley paid the owls and looked at their papers. Hermione gasped, her eyes widening, and quickly opened up the paper to read the full front page. Mrs. Weasley's expression grew grimmer than it had been before as she scanned the article with a tight jaw. Both witches ignored the questioning looks and quiet prodding of the others to get them to say something about the paper.

Finally, eyes glittering, Hermione put the paper down, excused herself, and rushed from the room. Harry, Ron, and Ginny crowded around the paper to read the article.

**Muggle Woman Breaking and Entering Murderer's Home**

**7/19/97**

_Three days ago, on July sixteenth at around 2 A.M., a Muggle woman named Alexandra Medley attempted to break into the home that used to belong to Severus Snape, who is believed guilty to be the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. Snape's house has been under guard since his crime first came to the attention of the Ministry and the would-be criminal was caught quickly._

_Medley has been in the Ministry's custody since that date, being questioned by Aurors. We asked one Auror, Brian Freeland, who was at the scene at the time the crime was attempted, what she was being interrogated on. He replied, "The exact content of the questions, and answers, is classified. I can tell you, though, that we believe Medley may be able to help us in our search for Snape." Kingsley Shacklebolt, leading the case, was also asked to give a comment but refused._

_Our inside source tells us that Medley once knew Snape, and that the two were well-acquainted as children…_

The reporter went on to give more information about Snape and Medley, but Harry had stopped reading and leaned back in his chair, a dark expression on his face. Ron and Ginny glanced at each other then looked back at Harry.

It was Ginny who spoke first. "I suppose Hermione is right, there is more to Snape than any of us thought," she said quietly.

"It's just a coincidence," Harry said forcefully, standing up and leaving, going out into the yard.

"So who should go see about whom?" Ron said dejectedly. Ginny sighed and stood up as well, but didn't turn to go anywhere. Instead, she began picking up dishes to wash and put away.

"We should just let them stew a while." She shook her head sadly. "This is definitely not what we need right now. Bill and Fleur's wedding is only a week away."

If either of them noticed that their mother had gone a bit pale, or that she was being unusually quiet, neither said anything about it.

When the dishes were done, Ron made his way upstairs to see about Hermione. He found her in his room, sitting on the floor next to his bed. She was writing something, using Snape's old potions book as a hard surface to keep the parchment flat against. Her hand was almost a blur, her penmanship unusually sloppy. She didn't even seem to notice Ron as he sat on his bed near her.

Finally, after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of her quill scratching, she signed her initials and leapt to her feet. She looked around the room for a moment, and then turned to Ron.

"Where's Pig? Can I use him to send a letter?" she asked quickly.

"Sure, what's the rush?" he replied, then went over to his owl, sleeping in its cage. He prodded it awake, and instantly the small creature began whizzing around his head, always excited to be taking a letter somewhere. Hermione practically snatched the poor bird out of the air and tied the letter to its leg. While she did that, Ron went over and opened his window, and within a few seconds Pig was zooming outside.

"I'm asking Victor to do me a favor," she said, pacing the room.

Ron's expression soured at the mention of Victor Krum, but instead of commenting on her continued communication with Krum, he asked, "What kind of favor?"

"He has a friend who's got a knack for finding information. I wonder how Victor met him, as he hacks Muggle computers. I'll explain about that some other time," she said, noting Ron's questioning stare. "All you need to know is that he's good at it, he never gets caught, and he'll be able to tell me all I want to know about Alexandra Medley."

"How do you know you can trust him?" Ron said.

"I don't."

* * *

**A/N:** Constructive criticism is very welcome. Please, if you see any way in which this can be improved, don't hesitate to inform me. However, I ask that you do it in a helpful manner, and that you don't just say, "This is terrible." Thank you! 


	6. Chapter 6: Intermission

**Disclaimer:** In no way do I own or claim to own Harry Potter. That is the original work of JKR and I'm not stupid enough to attempt to steal it.

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**"Every improvement in communication makes the bore more terrible." - Frank Moore Colby**

_Chapter 6:_ _Intermission_

Severus Snape scowled, crumbled up the morning paper, and threw it as hard as he could towards the other side of the room. He put his head in his hands, closing his eyes tightly, trying to will away the world.

It had been twenty years. Twenty long, dark years, and now she was back. He hadn't seen her since that night, hadn't heard anything from her. She had vanished, and he hadn't minded as much as he probably should have. She was a liability; she could've gotten him killed. Then she was gone, and no one knew where she was, and he felt safer. But now…the danger was here all over again, even worse than before as everyone opposing Voldemort and his followers wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

But Lexi was smart. She knew enough about the magical world, and him, to create theories about what was happening and know what not to tell. She would have kept herself up to date on the happenings of his world. At least, he hoped so. It had been twenty years, though; the Lexi he knew so well might not be there anymore. God that thought scared him…

Why did she have to show up now, of all times? Couldn't it have waited another year? And what had she been doing all that time? He needed answers, and he needed them soon. His life could depend on it. What he wouldn't give to be able to go talk to her…

Snape stood abruptly and went into his bedroom. He dressed quickly, and then strode into his bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet, revealing shelves of vials upon vials of potions, each labeled carefully and perfectly organized. He picked up a vial on the third shelf down, labeled _Herbert Arlington_, and gulped it down quickly, grimacing at the disgusting taste. He gripped the sides of the sink, leaning forward slightly as the pain started and the potion began to take effect. He watched in the mirror as his hair shortened and became frizzy and white, a large bald patch appearing on the top of his head, his ears grew larger, his nose smaller, though no less hooked. His eyes grew wider and changed from black to an ugly hazel, wrinkles appearing on his face. He shrank a few inches and his posture slouched, then the transformation was complete.

Snape rolled his shoulders, straightened his robes, and made his way back into his sitting room with a shuffling gait, much like an old man. He forced himself to look more cheerful, assuming the personality of Herbert Arlington, as he got a pinch of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire, which turned an emerald green. He stepped into it and said his destination clearly, "Borgin and Burkes."

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

Caractacus Burke stared thoughtfully at the fireplace that the strange old man had left through only moments before. A very intriguing request had been made, for a particular scrying mirror. Very few wizards used scrying mirrors anymore, or even did anything similar to scrying. Ignoring, of course, the few nutters who stared into crystal balls and said they saw things, but even they thought the idea of using a mirror was ludicrous.

This particular mirror, however, called _Atrum Visum_, had been made hundreds of years ago by a Dark wizard, and was allegedly capable of very clear visions into any time, past, present, or future. With a price, of course; blood from the user. In this way, the mirror had been given Dark magic by many wizards in the past, as only Dark wizards used it, ensuring that it would be a very powerful artifact indeed.

It would be hard to get it, but Burke would manage it. He had been offered a very large sum of money for it, in as short a time possible, and he was practically drooling at the thought of all that cash.

Burke left the shop then, putting a "closed" sign in the window, and strode off. He needed to contact a few..._acquaintances _for this job.

* * *

**A/N:** _Atrum Visum_ is Latin for dark vision. I apologize if that's completely wrong, but I have next tono knowledge of Latin. 

Constructive criticism is very welcome. Please, if you see any way in which this can be improved, don't hesitate to inform me. However, I ask that you do it in a helpful manner, and that you don't just say, "This is terrible." Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7: Mrs Medley

**Disclaimer:** In no way do I own or claim to own Harry Potter. That is the original work of JKR and I'm not stupid enough to attempt to steal it.

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**"The human brain is a most unusual instrument of elegant and as yet unknown capacity." - Stuart Seaton**

_Chapter 7: Mrs. Medley_

Kingsley shuddered as he entered the mental hospital. It was a two-story building with white tile floors and white walls. There was a lot of security, both inside and outside the building. The grounds were surrounded by a tall fence with barbed wire on the top, similar to a prison, and the gates were kept locked at all times, except for the few seconds it took for someone to drive through. It had taken him ten minutes to get the untrusting guard to open the gate.

He had stepped through the front doors to what looked like a waiting room. There were comfortable looking chairs set around the room and small tables with magazines on them. There was a wide window facing the grounds, which were actually quite nice. He noticed, though, that there were only two people there, at opposite ends of the room, both looking as if they would rather be anywhere else in the world.

Kingsley glanced uneasily at the security camera hanging above a TV that was set high on the wall near one of the corners, and then made his way over to the receptionist. The woman sat at a desk in a small room, a window in front of her so she could talk to visitors. She was short and plump, with frizzy gray hair pulled back into what he supposed could pass for a bun. She looked old, tired, and possibly a bit mad herself.

"Excuse me, um..." Kingsley read the nametag pinned to her pale blue uniform. "Joan. I'm here to see Dr. Tolbert?"

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked without looking up.

"Er-"

"Are you the one they sent?" another voice said. Kingsley looked over at the man holding open the heavy metal door that lead into the other parts of the buildingjust enough to stick his head out. Kingsley nodded to him, and the man beckoned him over and they both went through the door and entered a hallway.

On the left, from floor to ceiling, was what looked like a glass wall. Through it, Kingsley could see what looked like a large common area, with couches, chairs, a TV, and a few round tables. He noticed there were no corners anywhere. A shiver ran down his spine, and he turned his attention to the right. There were doors lining the wall with large enough windows to be able to easily see inside. The glass had wire in it to keep it from breaking as easily and so no one would be able to climb through it. In a few of the rooms there were doctors talking to patients.

The two men turned down another corridor at the end of the hall. At the end of that one, they entered a door on the left. Kingsley found himself in a rather nice office, with a plush maroon carpet and dark wood-panel walls. There were framed medical degrees hanging on the walls, and a few expensive paintings. A bookshelf took up much of the wall to Kingsley's left, filled with medical books. A window on the back wall looked out at the grounds. There was a large mahogany desk in the center of the room, facing the door Kingsley had just entered through. There were pictures of a beautiful blonde woman with green eyes set on the edge, probably the man's wife. Papers and folders were set in neat stacks on the desk, a computer taking up the right side of it. Right in the center was a single manila envelope with the name Elizabeth Medley scribbled on it.

The man himself, obviously Dr. Tolbert, gestured for Kingsley to take a seat then sat in the large leather chair behind his desk. He leaned back in it and looked steadily at Kingsley, hands folded over his stomach. He had salt-and-pepper hair that needed to be trimmed, plain brown eyes, andpockmarked cheeks. His jaw was tight, and he looked like a no-nonsense type of man, at least at the moment. It might have just been the situation. After all, Kingsley mused, anyone who spent his days trying to put crazy ideas like magic out of his patients' minds was bound to be a bit disturbed when he found himself sitting across from a real wizard.

"So," Tolbert began after a few minutes. His voice was rather high pitched and grated on Kingsley's nerves. "You want to know about Elizabeth Medley."

"Yes, sir," Kingsley responded.

"What do you hope to find?"

Kingsley forced himself not to groan with annoyance. Weren't Muggles supposed to cooperate with _all _types of law enforcement?

"Anything that might help my investigation," Kingsley answered.

"Sure," Tolbert said. He picked up the manila envelope and handed it to Kingsley and began to speak. "Elizabeth was committed on Christmas Eve in 1975 by her husband. She was under the delusion that her daughter was performing some kind of occult ritual that would kill her and her husband. She also believed that her daughter had friends who had demonic powers, which they used to possess and torture her daughter. In the end, she poisoned the family cat and tried to commit suicide."

Kingsley nodded as he half listened and read through the file. He didn't understand half the things written in there, so eventually closed it and asked for a copy. Tolbert nodded and said he already had one made, which was at the front desk with Joan.

"I'd like to talk to Mrs. Medley," Kingsley said after putting the file back on Tolbert's desk.

"Fine," Tolbert said and stood quickly. They both left the room and began walking through the halls again. Kingsley thought they all looked very similar and wondered how the man didn't get lost.

"You won't have more than ten minutes with her. She gets excited easily," Tolbert said as they reached an elevator and stepped inside. "If you get her riled up, I will have to ask you to leave. You'll be supervised by two orderlies and myself, and you may not, under any circumstances, touch her. Despite how she appears, she can be dangerous. She's injured two other patients in the past six months."

"Right," Kingsley said.

During Tolbert's speech, they had gotten out of the elevator and turned left to walk down the hall. When they reached a pair of heavy metal doors, Tolbert paused to put in a code on a small keypad to the right of the doors and swipe a keycard. A short buzz was made, and the doors unlocked and the two went through. The hall they entered was the same as all the others, with doors lining the walls. This time, however, the doors had no windows and strange sounds were coming from some of the rooms.

Tolbert, obviously unaffected by the noises, continued to about a quarter of the way down the hall and stopped outside a door with the number 254 on the outside. Nearby was a pair of orderlies that looked more like bouncers from a Muggle night club. They shuffled over and one of them, shorter than the other with a nametag that read Donald, unlocked the door and allowed the others to enter before he went in himself and closed and locked the door again.

They stood in a small room with a bed on the opposite end, a tiny desk with books stacked on it against the right wall. There was nothing else. Kingsley noted that there weren't even pens or pencils on the desk. The corners of it were covered with cotton balls that were taped there. The bed was attached to the floor. It looked eerily like one of the Ministry's holding cells, the ones for criminals awaiting trial, except they didn't even have desks.

At first, Kingsley thought the room was empty, but a voice floated over from the bed. "It's not time for dinner, yet." The blankets covering the bed shifted, and a woman came into view. Her hair was long, gray, and very messy. She was pale, as if she hadn't been in the sun for years, her blue eyes sunken with a mad glint, her skin wrinkled. She looked much older than she really was.

"Hello, Mrs. Medley," Kingsley said. "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt. I'd like to talk to you about Lexi."

The woman reeled back, her back hitting the wall, and she stared at him with obvious fear. "What do you know of _her_?" she spat.

"Not much. That's why I'd like to ask you about her. She had friends?"

"_Friends_. Those boys weren't _friends_. They were monsters. Eileen gave birth to a monster, and he had monster friends. Tobias didn't even know, but I knew, oh yes, I knew. Those disgusting freaks, terrorizing my innocent baby. They did it to her, they made her do it. It wasn't my baby who made that monster become interested in those things, oh no, she didn't. He made her believe she did, but _unh uh_, no she didn't. They made her do it," Elizabeth Medley rambled on, a crazed look in her eye. She was staring at Kingsley, and he forced himself not to shift uncomfortably, which was exactly what he wanted to do.

"What did they make her do?" Kingsley asked.

"They made her try to kill me. My baby loved me. She wouldn't have done it if it weren't for them. That stupid blonde boy, putting ideas in her head and calling her filthy and hurting her."

Kingsley's mind churned. A blonde boy. Who could it be, and what significance could he have?

"What was his name?"

"Filth! That demon! _Spawn of the devil_!" Elizabeth shrieked, clawing at the wall behind her. Blood began to trail her fingers as the skin was torn open, and Kingsley saw a fingernail rip off as she continued to scream. The two orderlies rushed forward and grabbed her arms, wrestling her down on the bed, shouting for a nurse. Tolbert grabbed Kingsley's arm and dragged him out of the room while a nurse rushed in, needle in hand, which she injected into Elizabeth. Elizabeth slowly stopped fighting them as the sedative kicked in and she fell unconscious.

"I think you're done here," Tolbert said to Kingsley, who couldn't agree more.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. I meant to get this up a while ago, but obviously I didn't. 

I have never been to an insane asylum or mental hospital, and I'm only going on things I've read, movies, and my imagination. If this is nothing like it is in reality, then please let me know so I can fix it.

Constructive criticism is very welcome. Please, if you see any way in which this can be improved, don't hesitate to inform me. However, I ask that you do it in a helpful manner, and that you don't just say, "This is terrible." Thank you!


	8. Chapter 8: Ivan

**Disclaimer:** In no way do I own or claim to own Harry Potter. That is the original work of JKR and I'm not stupid enough to attempt to steal it.

* * *

**The Enlightenment**

**"Learning is not attained by chance, it must be sought for with ardor and attended to with diligence." - Abigail Adams**

_Chapter 8: Ivan_

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, brandishing a plain white piece of paper with only eight words on it. It wasn't signed and he didn't recognize the handwriting, but he knew who sent it. He rushed into the sitting room, where Hermione was reading by the fire. She looked up curiously as she heard her name, but as soon as she read the note she yelped and leapt to her feet.

"Oh, this is much too sudden!" she exclaimed, running out of the room, dropping the note.

With perplexed expressions, Harry and Ginny looked at Ron. Charlie, standing at the foot of the stairs where Hermione had just flown by him, also stared. Ron did his best to look confused as well, but Harry wasn't fooled. He walked over and picked up the note.

"'Four o'clock. Leaky Cauldron. Room thirteen. July twenty-fourth'," he read aloud. "That's now." He looked at Ron with an arched eyebrow and asked, "Do you know what this is about?"

"It's something Hermione wrote-" He didn't manage to finish his sentence, as Hermione had just reentered the room, with no apparentchange from when she left.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," she said. "This shouldn't take too long."

"Don't you want someone to go with you?" Ron asked.

"No. He's only expecting me, and I don't want to offend him by bringing someone else along. I'll see you all later." Hermione then Disapparated with a small _pop_.

"Want to fill us in on what that was about?" Charlie asked flatly, crossing his arms.

"Yes, who's this 'he'?" Ginny said.

"Right…well…" Ron said, and then proceeded to tell them what Hermione was up to.

Meanwhile, Hermione had appeared in the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron that contained the doorway to Diagon Alley. She entered the small pub, glancing around her as she made her way towards the stairs. When she was about to go up, Tom, the barkeep, called her back.

"Excuse me, miss!" he said, just loud enough for her to hear. He gave a toothless grin and held out a plain white envelope. "I was told to give this to a brown-haired young witch who came in at four."

Hermione, confused, went over and took the envelope. She opened it and pulled out a plain white piece of paper,much like the one she had received at the Burrow. This one, however, read "G_o upstairs. Find the note taped to the door._" Frowning, she glanced at Tom, and then proceeded to go upstairs.

It took her only a few seconds to reach the door to room thirteen, with another note taped to it. She pulled it off and turned it around to read. She frowned again as she read _don't turn around_. Immediately, that was all she wanted to do. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her breathing quickened as she felt as if someone was standing right behind her, close enough to feel their breath.

Then, when something cool, smooth, and round was shoved into her hand, she knew it wasn't just her imagination. She also knew she should have brought someone else along, as she experienced a familiar tug somewhere behind her navel, signaling she had just touched a portkey.

An instant later, the movement stopped. The person behind Hermione gripped her shoulders, as if to keep her from falling, then let go and stepped back. Hermione whipped around, pulling out her wand and pointing it in between the stranger's eyes. She glared at him as he stared back with an expressionless face.

"What did you just do?" she demanded.

"Hermione Granger?" the wizard asked with a hint of a Bulgarian accent.

"What did you just do?" she repeated.

"Are you Hermione Granger or not?" He grew agitated in the span of a few seconds, and Hermione felt a spike of fear. She didn't think he would hurt her, but she lowered her wand just in case.

"Yes. Yes, I'm Hermione Granger," she said.

He nodded, satisfied, and his agitation vanished. "The name's Ivan."

Hermioneraised an eyebrow, wondering if he was, indeed, the man Victor was friendly with. Victor had never told her his name and she didn't know what he looked like or how she could be sure that it was him whom she was speaking with. Ivan himself was a tall man, quite skinny, with uncombed, greasy brown hair and bloodshot hazel eyes. His skin was pale, as if he hadn't been out in real sunlight for months, possibly even years. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, possibly younger. He wore Muggle clothes, but there was a wand sticking out of his pocket.

"I knew you would be followed," Ivan said suddenly. He turned and strode over to a nearbytable. Hermione noticed that the room was full of computers and all kinds of technical equipment. There were no windows and only one door that had to have at least fifteen locks on it.

Ivan picked up a small hand-held screen and held it out to Hermione. She took it and looked as Charlie appeared on the landing back at the Leaky Cauldron. He walked up to room thirteen and raised his hand to knock on the door when he noticed the note. He knelt down and picked it up, then scowled and Disapparated.

"What is this?" Hermione asked, too curious to be worried about the anger she would have to face when she returned to the Burrow.

"My own invention. It combines magic and computers. It almost acts like a crystal ball, except it plays real-time footage and there's the equivalent of a camera at the other end. Quite the ingenious invention, if I do say so myself."

"That's amazing!"

"You haven't seen anything yet," he said, moving to pick something else up, obviously very proud of his inventions. Then he froze, object in hand, and then placed it back down with a resigned expression. "But you haven't come here for that. Yes, it's time for business. Come, come, we should get more comfortable. Beverage?"

Slightly surprised and confused, Hermione refused. Ivan shrugged in a 'suit yourself' way. He moved past Hermione and flopped into a comfortable looking leather chair. There were two others placed around the room, and Hermione took one and pulled it up to sit near Ivan. He shifted things around on his desk then picked up a stack of papers and handed them to her.

"Everything I could find on that woman. Everything from date of birth to allergies to schools to family and friends," Ivan said, waving his hand at the papers. "She's quite interesting. Disturbed, but interesting."

"What do you mean by disturbed?" Hermione asked. Ivan just waved his hand at the papers again then leaned back in his chair, watching as Hermione began to read.

It took a long time to get through the whole thing. Nearly two hours were spent reading, looking through everything from a copy of Lexi Medley's birth certificate to schools she went to and the grades she got to visits to the doctor. There were even full profiles on both of her parents and one set of grandparents. It was overwhelming the information Ivan had found. He looked quite proud of himself when she finally looked up at him.

"Impressive, isn't it?" he said with a smug grin.

"She is disturbed. I wonder if she really did attempt to kill her father…and that hospital visit-" Hermione began, ignoring his comment.

"Ah, the one that there was no description of with the others?" he said. "It took me days to get information on it. It had been deleted from all the databases at that hospital, I only found it in a record of a follow up exam from her pediatrician."

"It sounds like something from a curse," Hermione said. "Massive bleeding from the wrists with only tiny little slits. It almost sounds as if someone tried to bleed her dry."

"Yes, yes, I know! It sounds like a Dark curse, does it not?"

Suddenly, Hermione stood up, letting out a shocked gasp. "Oh my goodness! I think…but no, that's not right, they were only fifteen…but maybe…" She began pacing, muttering to herself.

"Are we having an epiphany?" Ivan asked.

"Maybe!" Hermione said, suddenly excited now. She turned to Ivan, a glint in her eyes. She knew she was on to something.

"She knew Severus Snape. He made a ton of Dark spells, and some of them are in this old Potions book of his…well, he couldn't have possibly tried them on students when he was at Hogwarts because surely he would've been expelled. Maybe…maybe he knew someone, older than him, who could use magic and didn't have the restrictions of underage wizards. Maybe they tested the spells on Lexi, and…" Hermione trailed off, shaking her head.

"It's far-fetched, but it could be possible," Ivan murmured, turning in his chair to the nearest computer. He began typing rapidly, Hermione completely forgotten, muttering things under his breath.

After fifteen or so minutes of this, he looked at Hermione again, as if surprised she was still there.

"I apologize. Here, take your file. I need to do more research. I'll contact you again when I have something," Ivan said, handing her the papers on Medley. Hermione took them and held them close to her chest. He then handed her a small, round stone and, before she could thank him, she felt the effects of a portkey.

* * *

**A/N:** Constructive criticism is very welcome. Please, if you see any way in which this can be improved, don't hesitate to inform me. However, I ask that you do it in a helpful manner, and that you don't just say, "This is terrible." Thank you! 


End file.
